


Better Version Of Me

by left_uncovered



Series: Better Version Of Me [1]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Body Image, Edging, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Prostate Milking, Self-Esteem Issues, Selfcest, sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-06-17
Packaged: 2018-11-13 15:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11187684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/left_uncovered/pseuds/left_uncovered
Summary: “You masturbate all the time,” Jer says. “How is it any different? Just think of it as trans-dimensional masturbation. Only better.”And, okay, he doesn’t find Jer attractive, but he does like the idea of him. Of a better version of himself. And the idea that other people are super into him, at least in the future. And Jer is just so confident. He probably knows exactly what to do.A smooth-talking, sexually experienced, cool version of Jeremy appears in his bedroom one afternoon. The rest follows.





	Better Version Of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is exactly what it says on the tin. If you are not into squipped Jeremy topping the hell out of pre-squip Jeremy and making him cry (sexy) tears and have many orgasms, you should probably turn back now.
> 
> Apologies to Fiona Apple, whose [cool song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lAVsiW4nyjo) has nothing to do with time travelling selfcest.
> 
> Let Jeremy Heere Have More Orgasms 2k17

_I've got a plan, a demand and it just began_  
_And if you're right, you'll agree_

*

Jeremy's seen a lot of strange things in his life, but nothing – not past experience, not the myriad video games and cult movies he's seen – could have prepared him for this.

The boy looks just like him, except better dressed and with better posture and styled hair. And kind of built. Not like body builder built. Like swimmer built. Jeremy had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water, and when he’d come back to his room, he was just…there. Sitting on his bed, and going through the contents of his bedside drawer, laying them out on top of the sheets.

“Um.” Jeremy says, for lack of anything better to say. “Who are you?”

The boy doesn’t look up, but he does stop going through his things. “Hello, Jeremy. I’m you,” he says.

Jeremy stares. He does sound like him, but also…not. His voice is a little deeper, and almost lilting. Nothing like Jeremy’s nasally cadence.

What the fuck. This must be some kind of lucid dream. Jeremy’s never had one before, but there’s a first time for everything.

“This isn’t some kind of lucid dream, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He freezes.

“Are you, like, a mind-reader or something?”

The boy laughs. “No. But I do remember thinking _this must be some kind of lucid dream_.”

“What?”

“I’m you. But from the future,” his…apparently future self says.

Jeremy snorts to hide his panic. “Right. Very funny.”

“Well, where else would I have come from?” he asks. He’s smirking. It looks cool. But kind of wrong on his face. Jeremy never smirks like that.

When he doesn’t look very convinced, the boy sighs. “Okay. I’ll prove it. Ask me anything.”

Jeremy racks his brain for something only he would know, some kind of silver bullet that will prove he’s _not_ losing his mind and this is all just some very elaborate prank. But what comes out instead is, “What’s my favorite food?”

The boy raises an eyebrow at him. “Double Delight Oreos with Peanut Butter 'n Chocolate Crème,” he says without missing a beat. “With milk. But come on, Jeremy. You can do better than that.”

“Fine!” Jeremy says, bordering on hysteria. He’s pacing now and cracking his knuckles. “What was the first thing I did after mom left?”

When he looks up, the boy’s perpetual smirk has collapsed into a small frown. This, Jeremy recognizes. It’s his sympathetic look. “Jeremy…” he says gently.

“Come on,” Jeremy dares him. “Answer it.”

He sighs. “You went into your room and locked the door. You cried. You took the family photo out of its frame and put it in your bedside drawer.” He holds it up, and Jeremy looks away. “Then you called Michael. He came over and you –”

“Okay! Okay. I get it. You’re future me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “How far into the future?” He doesn’t look much older than Jeremy, though he definitely looks _different_. “And what do I even call you?”

“Call me Jer,” future him – Jer – says smoothly. “That’s what everyone calls me. And not that far. What grade are you in?”

“Tenth,” Jeremy says. “It’s March.”

“Six months then. I’m you from the fall of your junior year.”

Jeremy sits down on the bed next to him. So future him from fall junior year is here. And he doesn’t seem to be, like, evil or anything, so that’s a plus. Jeremy should probably ask him something important – something about the news, or about his life, or his parents, or Michael –

“You look cool,” he blurts out, and then immediately buries his face in his hands. Great. Underneath the layer of panic, he’s been thinking it the entire time because, you know, _priorities_. Really, it’s a miracle he managed not to say it until now. He doesn’t even know why he’s embarrassed – it’s _him_ , for god’s sake. A cooler, better-looking version of him, granted, but still him.

Jer smiles. Not one of Jeremy’s dorky smiles. A _cool_ smile.

“I _am_ cool, Jeremy.”

Jeremy tries imitating him. He catches his face in the mirror. He just looks stupid. His facial muscles were not meant to contort like this.

“Can you teach me to be cool then?” he asks.

“Sorry, no,” Jer says, and he actually does look sorry about it. “That comes later. Can’t mess up the timeline.”

“So when do I get to be cool?”

“Soon. Fall junior year.”

Something occurs to Jeremy. “Hey, how is Michael? Does he get cool too?” Michael’s never really cared about being cool, but it would be nice if they could do it together.

Jer pauses for a long moment, looking completely zoned out. “He’s fine,” he says eventually.

That was kind of weird, but Jeremy decides not to press.

“So. What are you doing here? And when do you get back to your…time?”

Jeremy really isn’t looking forward to having to hide a copy of himself in his bedroom indefinitely.

“It’s too complicated to explain to you right now, but I should be gone in a few days.”

“Oh come on! I meet a real live time traveler and he won’t even tell me anything? That’s lame.”

Jer stares at him. “Have you learned nothing from all that sci-fi you watch? Rule number one: never mess with the timeline.” For a second, he actually sounds like Jeremy. Uncool present-day Jeremy. But then the moment’s gone, and he’s back to his arched-out-back, puffed-out-chest, un-nerdy self.

Jeremy doesn’t have a good comeback to that, so he just goes to get the air mattress from the cabinet down the hall.

“You can sleep on the far side of the room on the other side of the bed,” he says, hauling it in through the door. “That way, if dad comes in he won’t see you. Not that he comes to check up on me often…”

“It’ll get better,” Jer says.

“How do you know?”

“My SQ – I just do, okay. I’m from the _future_.”

He inflates the air mattress and plops down on it, crossing one leg over the other.

Jeremy puts his things back in the drawer and goes to sit on his own bed. “This is still so weird,” he says. Jer just hums.

There’s a long silence Jeremy feels compelled to fill.

“Do you miss the future?” he asks.

“Not really. Not right now, at least. I don’t think I’ve been gone long enough.”

“Oh. That’s good, I guess.”

“You guess,” Jer parrots.

Jeremy rolls his eyes. He doesn’t get him. One minute, Jer is being nice to him, the next he’s mocking him for no reason. Then again, Jeremy doesn’t understand much about his present self, either. Like now: he doesn’t know why he feels obligated to entertain his new guest, but – “Do you wanna play video games or something?”

“I don’t play video games,” Jer says dismissively. “They’re not cool.”

Oh. Jeremy kind of deflates.

“Movies?”

“Your movies aren’t cool.”

“Board games?”

“Are you even _trying_?”

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s impossible to please.

“Fine! Then what _is_ cool?”

“Oh, you know.” Jer puts up his fingers as he counts. “Parties, vodka, drugs –”

“I did pot once.”

“That was in Michael’s basement. It doesn’t count. Football, Snapchat, Eminem…” He looks directly at Jeremy and grins. “Sex.”

Jeremy goes so red he thinks his face might explode.

“Well, we can’t do any of those since you have to stay hidden and I don’t have any drugs, alcohol or Eminem. Or hookers.” He pauses. “Well, I guess you could just masturbate. I mean, that’s the next best thing.”

Jer scoffs. “I don’t masturbate,” he says. “It’s not cool.”

“Everyone masturbates!”

“See, this is why you’re uncool, Jeremy.”

He starts spluttering, but Jer cuts him off.

“Besides, that’s not even true. We could have sex.”

Jeremy isn’t sure if he’s using _we_ to refer to just himself or if he means it like – no way. He couldn’t. It’s too crazy.

“You mean _you_ could have sex.”

“No,” Jer says. “I mean, _we_ could have sex.”

What the fuck.

What. The. Fuck.

Jeremy isn’t sure being cool is worth it if it makes him this insane.

“What the hell! I’m not going to have sex with you,” he hisses. “You’re me! What is _wrong_ with you.”

Jer just waves a dismissive hand at him.

“You masturbate all the time. How is it any different? Just think of it as trans-dimensional masturbation. Only _better_.”

“You’re insane! And I don’t even like guys.”

Jer just gives him a knowing look. “Really.”

“Yes. _Really_.”

“So you didn’t like guys that time you jerked it thinking about Michael?”

Jeremy’s whole face goes red. “What? That’s crazy! I don’t even – quite frankly, how do I know _you’re_ not jerking it to Michael?”

Jer just looks at him in disbelief. “You do realize I’m you, right? As you just pointed out.”

“Whatever! That’s not what I meant. Besides, everyone has weird thoughts about their best friend sometimes.”

“Does everyone also finger themselves thinking about their best friend?”

Jer gets up from his mattress, opens the bedside drawer, and holds up the damning bottle of lube Jeremy picked up at CVS. It’s already half empty. He stares him down until he starts to sweat _._

“Whatever! It felt good!”

That was probably the wrong thing to say, because Jer just grins at him salaciously and honest to god _winks_. “Oh, I know.”

“Stop it!”

“Stop what?” Jer asks coyly.

“Trying to – to seduce me or whatever!”

“I’m not trying to seduce you. I was just offering you a suggestion. If it felt good, don’t you want to do it again? Imagine having sex with someone who knows exactly what you’re into. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

He’s gotten up from his mattress now, and is standing over Jeremy, who is blushing furiously and staring at his hands. His stupid horny teenage body is clearly out to get him, because he actually shivers. And objectively speaking, it is a nice thought. And, okay, he doesn’t find Jer attractive, but he does like the idea of him. Of a better version of himself. And the idea that other people are super into him, at least in the future. And Jer is just so confident. He probably knows exactly what to do.

Okay, maybe he is a little bit into it.

“Isn’t that going to…mess up the timeline?” he asks weakly.

“No. Why would it? It’s not like you can get pregnant.”

That’s true, but Jeremy didn’t think you could time travel either, so maybe anything’s possible.

“But since you’re not interested, I guess you can go back to watching your porn,” Jer says, turning around and walking back to his mattress.

“No, wait!”

He pauses mid-step.

Jeremy swallows hard. He can’t believe he’s actually doing this.

“My dad won’t be home for another hour and a half. Is that enough time to…you know?”

Jer actually laughs. Not a scoff or a snicker, but a throw-back-your-head laugh. “Oh, Jeremy,” he says. “Given your stamina, that’s enough time for multiple rounds.”

*

Jeremy didn’t think he was narcissistic enough to be attracted to his own body, but staring up at Jer from where he’s straddling him on his bed, he has to admit he might have been mistaken. Then again, Jer’s body hardly counts as his own. His arms are toned and his frame is filled out, and he has both pecs _and_ abs. It looks like someone took Jeremy’s head and pasted it onto a model’s body. He suddenly doesn’t want to take his shirt off.

“Stop staring. It’s weird.” Jer gestures at his shirt. “Arms up.”

When Jeremy doesn’t respond, he just rolls his eyes.

“Come on, Jeremy, just take it off. It’s nothing I haven’t already seen.”

“Easy for you to say! You’re – ” Jeremy makes some vague, all-encompassing gesture at him. But he pulls his shirt above his head anyway, and Jer gets it the rest of the way off. His pants and boxers follow, and then they’re both naked, strange funhouse mirror images of each other.

“That’s better. See, sex is generally better when you’re naked.”

“Ha ha.”

Jeremy pauses to take him in. Jer is half-hard. At least that’s something he gets to be smug about.

“So um. How are we doing this?”

“Scoot.”

He moves over to give Jer room to lie next to him. The bed is tiny, so they’re pressed in tight together. It’s strange seeing Jer’s face up close and not feeling the dull surge of revulsion he gets whenever he looks in the mirror.

Without preamble, Jer reaches out and takes Jeremy’s cock in his grip. Jeremy swallows his gasp.

“Give a guy a warning!” he grumbles. Jer just raises an eyebrow at him.

He starts stroking Jeremy, slow at first, avoiding the head, where he knows he’s most sensitive. Jeremy hums happily, content to just let Jer do the work – he’s got it just right, this is exactly how he’d touch himself if he were just jerking off – but after a while, he thinks it’s kind of weird how he’s just lying there while Jer jerks him off, cock hard against his own stomach.

“Do you want me to – ?”

“Yeah. Do it.”

It’s disorienting the first time he touches Jer’s cock. The perspective is all wrong. He wonders if it even counts as a first time, given the situation. Does this count as a handjob or mutual masturbation? He thinks it’s probably some combination, an out-of-body masturbation experience.

“This is like an out-of-body masturbation experience,” he says.

“Jeremy, please stop talking.”

Jer’s eyes have fallen shut, and his brow is furrowed, like he’s concentrating really hard on jerking Jeremy off. He’s moving his hand faster now, swiping his thumb over the sticky head, before sliding back down to the base, giving it a firm squeeze. Jeremy takes that as his cue to follow suit. It earns him a low moan, Jer’s hand stilling briefly before resuming its motions.

They’re both panting now – Jer’s face is so close to his Jeremy can feel his warm breath against his cheek. He’s far gone enough he can admit he looks good, mouth wet and red and open on a silent moan, jaw slack with pleasure. Jeremy’s always assumed he looked kind of stupid whenever he got off, but Jer – Jer looks good.

“I told you to stop staring.”

His eyes are open now, and Jeremy can see how dilated his pupils are. He wonders suddenly if that’s what he looks like right now, before he’s struck with a bout of self-consciousness.

Jer’s free hand comes up to cup the back of his head. “Stop thinking,” he says, before pulling Jeremy in.

Jer’s lips are wet from when he’d been licking them, and his mouth slides easily over Jeremy’s. He’s never kissed anyone before, but it’s easy to follow Jer’s lead. He moans into his mouth when Jer strokes him in exactly the right way. He does it again and again and again, until Jeremy has to break away, overwhelmed and panting.

“How are you so chill about this?” he groans.

“Experience,” Jer says easily. “Stamina.”

Jeremy wants to keep stroking him, wants to give as good as he’s getting, but it’s getting harder and harder to focus on jerking him off when he’s so close himself. His eyes have fallen shut, and his hips are rocking desperately into Jer’s touch.

“Jer. Sorry – I can’t – it’s too – _fuck_.”

“It’s okay,” Jer says. He grabs Jeremy by the shoulder and pulls him closer. “It’s okay, let me just –”

He takes both their cocks in his grip.

“Fuck!”

Jeremy’s eyes snap open, and a second later he wishes they hadn’t, because the sight of both their cocks in Jer’s hand, red and shiny on the tip, is almost too much.

“Fuck, _Jer_ ,” he groans.

“You like that?”

Jeremy nods because he doesn’t trust his voice to produce a sound that isn’t an embarrassing moan.

Their cocks rub slickly against each other in his grip. Jer’s leaking against him, and Jeremy can feel his precome sliding onto his own cock, wet and sticky. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, _but it is_ , and Jeremy is a few good pulls from losing it.

“Almost,” he pants. “Almost.”

He’s vaguely aware of Jer releasing his own cock from his grip, fist tightening around Jeremy’s.

“Yeah, Jeremy. Come on. Do it.”

He moans Jer’s name when he comes, shaking apart against him. Jer keeps pumping his cock, drawing his orgasm out, until Jeremy groans and bats his hand away.

He’s still shaking from it, trying to even out his breathing, when Jer’s fingers close around him again. The pressure on his oversensitive dick makes him jerk.

“Too much,” he gasps.

Jer hums. “I think you still have a bit left in you.”

Oh god.

Jeremy almost reflexively tells him to stop – he’s never touched himself like this after getting off – but the sharp edge of too much is making his toes curl. He wants to find out what it’s like to be pushed almost too far.

He blows out a shaky breath.

“Fuck. Do it.”

Jer smiles, then his hand tightens around him. He gives Jeremy two good strokes, then squeezes hard around the head, running his thumb in tight circles over it. It feels – it’s a lot, but Jeremy doesn’t think anything is really going to happen, until thick white beads of come start dribbling over Jer’s closed fist.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he groans. He can’t tear his eyes away, totally transfixed as Jer works his spent cock.

“There we go,” he says, running his thumb through the sticky mess. “That’s it, Jeremy.”

His other hand brushes against his cheek, oddly gentle. “Just a bit more,” he soothes.

Jeremy shudders against his touch, watching helplessly as he coaxes the last few drops out of him.

He doesn’t think he breathes again until it’s over, and Jer lets him go, kissing him on the forehead, then brushing the hair out of his face.

He doesn’t know how long he lies there on his back, breathing hard, just trying to process whatever the hell it was Jer just did to him. He didn’t even know his body could _do_ that. When he feels like he can speak again, he turns to face Jer so he can ask and – and Jer is jerking his own dick almost frantically, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“Shit!” Jeremy says, sitting up. “Oh god, I’m sorry. You didn’t even – let me –”

“It’s okay,” Jer breathes. “You don’t have to. ‘M close anyway.” He must do something really good with his wrist, because he breaks off into moan.

Jeremy isn’t sure where to look. His gaze keeps flickering between Jer’s cock and his face. Breathy little moans are escaping from his lips, punctuated by the occasional gasp whenever he works his dick really good. He’s quiet when he comes, though, just sighs out a little _oh_ before his body tenses and he shoots all over his hand.

Jeremy’s limp dick twitches against his thigh. He isn’t even mad when Jer wipes his hand off on the sheets.

“You were gonna ask me something?” Jer says a few minutes later, when they’re both breathing normally.

Oh. Right.

“That thing you did, after I came,” Jeremy says. “What was that?”

“Oh.” A slow smile spreads across Jer’s face. “Milking. You can do it before you come, too.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy says. He blushes, feeling stupid for being embarrassed talking about it, considering they just _did_ it. “That felt really good. I liked that.”

“I noticed.”

He figures there’s little point in hiding his desperation now.

“Could we um. Could we do that again? Round 2?”

“We could do something better.”

“Better? I nearly _died_.”

He’s now examining his entire mental catalog of sex acts gleamed from porn, trying to determine what Jer means by ‘better’. His knowledge there is admittedly thin – he’d only gotten into the gay stuff recently, and before that, he’d never even imagined what he could do with a guy. Or what a guy could do with him. To him. He shivers. He’s starting to get hard again.

“Jeremy. Focus.” Jer is snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry. What’d you just say?”

“I said I could fuck you.”

Jeremy really needs to stop zoning out during important conversations.

“Fuck me?” he squeaks.

“Yeah. Fuck the come out of you.” Jeremy makes a strangled noise, but Jer just continues, undeterred, casual as ever. “It’d be easy. Your prostate’s more sensitive than your dick.”

He flushes and goes all the way hard. He can’t help thinking about that first time he’d fingered himself, the shock of the new pleasure, how he’d barely even needed the hand on his dick to come.

“Look at that.” Jer gestures at his dick. “Ready to go again. Spread. Knees up.”

Jeremy obeys, watching mutely as Jer slicks his fingers up with lube.

The first finger burns going in, and Jeremy winces, muscles coiling tight.

“You need to relax,” Jer says. He’s running a soothing hand up and down Jeremy’s thigh. “It’ll feel better if you relax. Touch yourself, if that helps.”

Jeremy starts teasing his cock with light strokes, trying not to get too worked up, as Jer works the second finger in. He starts pumping his fingers in slowly, just letting him get used to the sensation. Jeremy’s never liked this part much, has always just seen it as a prerequisite for getting to touch that sensitive spot inside him.

He cries out when Jer finally brushes against his prostate.

“There,” he says, breathless. “God, just there.”

“Mhmm.”

The touch was so fleeting it was barely there, but the promise of more has him wound up tight. Jer pulls his fingers out so just the tips catch on the sensitive rim, then pushes them right back in up to the knuckles. He curls them up, so they drag slowly across his prostate.

Jeremy lets out a long, low moan, hand dropping onto the bed. He doubts he’ll need much hand-on-dick action if Jer keeps this up. Every shivery good press inside him has him seeing stars.

It seems Jer has different plans.

“Want some help?” he asks, running a teasing finger over the length of his cock. “Sometimes it’s harder, the second time.”

Jeremy shakes his head. “If you touch me there I’m gonna come.”

“I’ll go slow. Just tell me when you’re close.”

Jeremy exhales shakily, then nods.

He does go slow, pumping Jeremy’s cock root to tip, not enough to get him off, just enough to help him work the come out. His fingers keep moving across his prostate, relentless, alternating long presses with quick, teasing rubs.

“Oh god,” Jeremy moans when he finally starts to leak. It’s just like that first time: not the relief of an orgasm, exactly, just pure, sharp pleasure building and building, filling him up but going nowhere. He grabs onto the sheets, hands clenching and unclenching spasmodically, trying to ground himself. It’s not just the raw sensation, though that’s definitely part of it. It’s the knowledge that he can do this. That his body can do this, that someone can make him feel this good. He feels overloaded, every part of him so sensitive he’s sure he’d come if Jer just pressed or pulled a little harder.

Jer seems to sense this, because he pulls his fingers out and loosens his grip on his cock.

“Are you close?”

Jer starts playing with his balls, rolling and squeezing gently.

Jeremy groans. “Yeah. God.” He can still feel the phantom sensation of Jer’s fingers pressing into him.

“Do you wanna come now or wait?” Jer asks. “It can feel good to wait.” His fingers slide lower and start rubbing against the sensitive spot behind his balls, slow first, then harder, more insistent.

Jeremy bites his lip. “Am I into that?”

“We can find out.”

Jeremy nods. “Okay. Okay, I wanna wait.”

He’s always been bad at self-denial, and after all of Jer’s talk about his lack of stamina, he expects him to just stop, to give him time to let the rush of his building orgasm recede. Instead, he leans down and fits his mouth around the head of his cock. His hands come to rest on Jeremy’s hips, keeping him from bucking up into his mouth. He doesn’t suck him off, just keeps his mouth there, tongue swirling back and forth across the oversensitive head. Then he flickers it quickly across his slit, and Jeremy cries out, overwhelmed. He feels another gush of come spurt from his cock, feels Jer lap it up and swallow.

“What are you doing?” he asks, propping himself up on his elbows so he can look at Jer. He doesn’t know how he expects him to hold off like this.

Jer tongues his slit again then pulls off. Jeremy’s come is still on his lips. He licks it off obscenely.

“Taking the edge off.”

“That’s supposed to _take the edge off_?” Jeremy asks incredulously.

“You need a lot of pressure to come,” Jer explains. “A mouth is less pressure than a hand. Look, if you don’t like what I’m doing, tell me to stop. Otherwise,” and then he dives right back in.

Jeremy lets himself fall back onto the mattress. He tries to focus on his breathing. Jer’s mouth is warm and wet and tight around him, but Jer never lets him get too close. Whenever Jeremy starts getting too worked up, he slows down, just lets the head of his cock rest in his mouth until he’s calmed down.

He’s so blissed out from Jer’s mouth on his dick that when Jer pushes into him later, he actually says, “Damnit Jeremy, you better not have fallen asleep on me.”

“No, ‘m awake,” Jeremy says opening his eyes. Jer works in a little farther, and he gasps at the pressure. “Just feel really good. Keep going.”

Jer does, pushing in slowly, while Jeremy just tries to breathe through it. He’s never thought of himself as particularly big, but taking Jer’s cock – it’s a lot. It’s definitely more than the three fingers he’d worked up to before.

Their hips press flush against each other once Jer gets all the way in. He’s red-faced and panting hard, and Jeremy realizes suddenly how much self-control it must be taking him to not just jackhammer into him. It’s the first time tonight Jer hasn’t looked composed, he realizes.

“You okay?” Jer asks.

“Yeah,” Jeremy says. “Just. Full.”

He reaches down to where they’re joined, tracing the base of Jer’s cock where it disappears into him. It’s like a punch to the gut, the visceral proof of how deep Jer is inside him, how full he is of his cock. He can’t help the way he clenches down, overwhelmed.

Jer’s eyes widen, and he cries out, pushing in farther.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, getting ready to soothe Jeremy, except – except it didn’t hurt.

“Do that again,” Jeremy says.

Jer looks at him uncertainly, then pulls out and very purposefully thrusts back in, slow and deliberate, like he’s letting Jeremy see how he’s taking every inch of him. God. Jeremy can’t help moaning at how good it feels to be filled up like this. It’s strange – he hasn’t hit his prostate yet, so this isn’t even the main event, but the achey, full feeling is its own kind of satisfying.

Jer starts moving faster now, hips snapping rhythmically into him, and Jeremy feels his own hips lift, trying to get more.

“Come on, come on,” he whines. “Haven’t you found it yet?”

Jer lets out a shaky bark of laughter, then lifts his hips so he fucks into Jeremy at a different angle, and – oh.

“Ohhh,” Jeremy moans, feeling the whole length of Jer’s cock slide against his prostate. Then Jer pulls back quickly, so only the head is inside, and the feeling is gone. Jeremy makes a frustrated noise, is just about to complain, when Jer thrusts back in harder.

“Ah!”

“Too hard?”

Jeremy tries to slow his breathing long enough to respond. “No. Just like that.” He looks up at Jer, pleading. “Please. Just like that.”

Jer fucks him hard, making sure to get his prostate on every thrust. Every slick slide against it has Jeremy crying out, all sensation narrowed down to that one point of contact. Sometimes Jer will pull out halfway and get just the tip in him, move his hips to rub it against that spot so sweetly, teasing. Then he’ll thrust right back in, and Jeremy will feel it all at once – the fullness, the blunt pressure on his too-sensitive prostate.

“I didn’t know it could feel like this,” he says, voice small. His cock lies untouched on his belly, spurting weakly whenever Jer gets a really good thrust in. He feels cracked open, doesn’t even have the energy to touch himself. All he can do is lie there and take it.

“Fuck, Jeremy, look at your cock,” Jer groans.

“Please,” Jeremy says, and then loses his train of thought. “Please, Jer, can you –”

“You want me to touch you there?”

“Yeah. But don’t – don’t wanna come yet.”

Jer is so gentle when he finally touches him. He must know how close Jeremy is. When Jeremy tries to buck up into his hand, Jer lays a steadying palm on his hip.

His strokes are slow but firm, making Jeremy ache with need. It’s not long before he’s leaking steadily, getting Jer’s hand and the sheets all sticky. Jer’s matching the rhythm of his hand to his thrusts, has Jeremy trying to buck into his hand then fuck himself back onto his cock. It feels so good, the long achey slide of pleasure, drawn out longer than an orgasm, but without the satisfaction of a climax. Tears are beginning to form in the corners of his eyes. He’d be more mortified about it if he weren’t so desperate.

“Jer,” he sobs. “It’s so much. It’s too much.”

Jer leans down, and for a second he thinks he’s going to kiss him to shut him up, but instead, his lips graze across his eyes, and Jeremy realizes he’s kissing away his tears.

“Shh, I know,” he whispers against his forehead. “I know it’s a lot. You’re okay. Just let it happen.”

“Please, please…” he chants incoherently.

“What do you want, Jeremy?”

“Wanna come,” Jeremy gasps out. “Please, let me come, oh god, oh god.”

“You don’t wanna wait?” Jer asks, cupping his cheek.

“Can’t,” Jeremy pants. “Need to come, _please_.”

“Okay,” Jer says. He kisses him, swallowing his moan. “Let it go, Jeremy. You did so well. You can come.”

“Oh Jer, fuck,” he cries, as the pleasure crests, and his orgasm washes over him. He sobs in relief as it runs through him, body wrung out after being denied for so long. He clenches down hard around Jer, who makes a wounded noise, and follows.

God. Jeremy is going to be so sore tomorrow, but right now all he can think about is how completely fucked out he feels. When Jer pulls out a few moments later, he lets out a little _oh_ at the feeling of his come trickling out of him.

They just lie there for a while, in the gross sticky sheets. The room quiet except for their heavy breathing.

“Wow,” Jer says eventually. Jeremy turns to look at him. He’s staring at the ceiling, looking awed.

“No kidding,” he says.

Jer turns on his side so that they’re face-to-face. “How was that for a first time?” he asks. It’s the smug, cocky tone again, but underneath it is a layer of uncertainty. Almost nervousness.

“It was good,” Jeremy reassures him. “Better than good.” He’d kind of expected Jer to just fuck him into the mattress from behind, but he was surprisingly gentle about it – at least until Jeremy had asked him not to be. He was good at giving Jeremy what he needed.

It’s a nice thought, and he’s content to bask in it, until he realizes it’s only because Jer is literally him, that he’s willing to deal with his needy, crying, multiple-orgasm-demanding self.

“Do I always get like this during sex?” he asks quietly.

Jer sounds almost fond when he answers. “Not always. But a lot.”

Jeremy feels his heart sink at the confirmation. It might be okay to be like this in front of Jer, but what about everyone else? What about Mi –

Nope. Not gonna think about that. He wouldn’t even be into that anyway, so what was the point?

“Is – is that uncool?” he asks uncertainly.

There’s a long pause, and Jeremy prepares himself for the incoming takedown, but instead Jer just says, “No. No, it’s good. Don’t worry about that. You should let people make you feel good. That’s cool.”

“All right,” Jeremy says, unconvinced. Jer is looking at him kind of sadly (pityingly, he thinks), so he looks away. His eyes fall on the clock.

“Shit! Dad will be home soon.”

Jer just stretches out languorously on the bed. “Do you wanna shower first?” he asks.

Jeremy takes a minute to assess himself. He’s sweaty and gross, and so is Jer, but at least Jer isn’t covered in come like he is.

“Yeah.”

“Can you walk?”

He tries standing up from the bed and winces. “Yeah. It just stings.”

“Sorry,” Jer says. “It really does hurt for a while.”

Jeremy groans. Well, he guesses he’ll just try his best not to walk bowlegged this weekend. That would definitely attract suspicion.

Jer just laughs at him as he hobbles the entire way to the door.

*

_Here it comes,_  
_A better version of me_

*

 “Can I ask you something else?” Jeremy says, when they’re lying in bed later. “I know it might screw up the timeline but I just – I need to know.”

“What is it?” Jer asks. He’s propped up on one elbow, looking up at Jeremy from the mattress on the floor.

“You and Michael. Are you –”

Jeremy worries at his lower lip and forces the words out. “I mean, do we ever…does anything ever happen between us? In your time?”

Jer blows out a breath loudly. He sounds frustrated.

“No,” he says. “Not yet.”

“Oh.” Jeremy tries not to be disappointed. Turns out Michael isn’t one of those people in the future who’s going to make him feel good. He doesn’t know why he expected otherwise. “Sorry. It was a dumb question.”

“No no no,” Jer says quickly. “It wasn’t dumb. Look, I’m working on it, okay? I’ll figure it out.”

Jeremy doesn’t really trust himself to deal with it – doesn’t trust himself to deal with _anything_ – but he does trust Jer.

“Promise?” he asks.

Jer laughs. “Yeah, Jeremy. Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was in the middle of writing the sequel to On The Cusp, and then [this Jeremy/Jeremy fanart happened](https://left-uncovered.tumblr.com/post/161928779597/thought) and my brain went ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. I really have no excuse.
> 
> I am on [Tumblr.](https://softfists.tumblr.com)
> 
> Thank you for reading. I love and appreciate feedback.


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